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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496262">always bet on suede</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/macrauchenia/pseuds/macrauchenia'>macrauchenia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Concern, Fluff, Gen, Kaz starting to put together his new family, Pre - SoC events, Through schemes and needlessly complex hints of course</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:14:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/macrauchenia/pseuds/macrauchenia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nina’s overheard advice. Jesper’s clumsy protection. Inej’s unspoken concern. The rest of them ogling like fools over a simple pair of suede gloves.</p><p>Strange for a murder of crows to get so attached to their residential pigeon. Still, if it kept the others watching over Wylan, then Kaz had one less variable to worry about.</p><p>[Essentially, Kaz tricks his crows into keeping their naivest member safe]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Inej Ghafa &amp; Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey &amp; Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker &amp; Wylan Van Eck, Wylan Van Eck &amp; Nina Zenik</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>always bet on suede</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, a while back, I tore through the duology and hammered out, like, 4.5k words on this story. Then I let it sit for over a year and lowkey forgot about it. I dusted it off and fixed up a few things, but it's been a while since I've read the books. Heads up in advance if I missed some canon details. </p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>“What kind of father doesn’t keep current pictures of his family?”</em>
</p><p>Kaz had murmured the question while they tiptoed through the van Eck mansion. Inej hadn’t responded. If he had wanted an answer, he would have been more explicit.  </p><p>Kaz’s gaze drifted towards a dusty photo of two smiling adults and a young boy. It was tucked away on a high shelf, almost like an afterthought. Inej spared it a brief, curious look before refocusing on the mission at hand: finding the deKappel.</p><p>He had cracked the barest smile when they found it. Instead, his gaze had lingered on the nearby piano, the stand devoid of music and the keys coated with a fine layer of dust.</p><p>Dusty photographs, dusty pianos. There was a scheme brewing in that brain.</p><p>She hadn’t been surprised. Kaz had a nasty habit of ignoring the prize in front of them, always looking ahead for the next job.   </p><p>They had barely rolled the painting into a storage tube before Kaz sent her on another assignment, on another <em>hunch</em>.</p><p>He said he’d meet her back at the Slat and not to worry about helping him get out of the van Eck mansion. Claimed he had it under control.</p><p>She didn’t doubt him, but – per usual – she wished for a little bit of clarity.</p><p>But clarity wasn’t Kaz’s style, so she spent the next hour patrolling the rain-soaked streets of Kesterdam, searching for Kaz’s ghost. He had given her a simultaneously thorough and maddeningly confusing description, almost if Kaz himself didn’t know who to look for either.  </p><p>A boy their age, but seemingly younger. The soft skin of a merchling, but recently blistered. Hair with the shine of burnished copper, but marred by grime.</p><p>It was a laundry list of uncertainties and paradoxes. Inej braced herself for a long night of chasing shadows.</p><p>She never anticipated for the shadows to chase <em>her</em> back.</p><p>The sound of footsteps – heavy, but not with weight; rather, inexperience – neared. She jumped backwards, pressing herself tight against the nearest wall.</p><p>Just in time, as a cloaked figure rounded the corner. Inej couldn’t make out many details in the dimness. At least, not until the figure stumbled into the dangerous glow of a streetlamp like a light-drunk moth. Inej reflexively scoured the area for any preying anglers, but they were the only two nearby.</p><p>Pale, scuffed knuckles emerged from the oversized cloak sleeves and yanked at the hem of the hood. It was a futile effort; nothing could keep out the rain when the saints above started weeping.</p><p>Still, Inej caught a glimpse of reddish-gold when the figure – a boy – fussed with the inadequate hood. The lamplight above threw strange shadows, but she supposed the hair color could be considered “burnished copper”. In a dirty coin sort of way.</p><p>All the other parts of Kaz’s baffling description amazingly seemed to fit. Inej supposed she found her ghost after all.</p><p>The boy didn’t spend much time staying still. With a far-too-casual glance over his shoulder and another scowl at the cloud-darkened, starless sky, he turned and wandered towards <em>another</em> dark corridor.  </p><p>Inej resisted the urge to groan and hurried after him.</p><p>Shadowing the boy would have been so much easier without Kaz’s second command.</p><p>
  <em>(“Whatever you do, he must not know he’s being followed.”)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(“What if it looks like he’ll run into trouble?”)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(“Prevent it.”)</em>
</p><p>if she didn’t know the boy’s value – and surely he must have some, considering the fact that Kaz sent his most trusted lieutenant on this mission – she recognized being part of a protection detail.</p><p>But usually the recipient <em>knew</em> they were being protected. That was, perhaps, the most puzzling part of the job.</p><p>Well, whatever. Kaz was made of puzzles. As Nina would often complain, Kaz was a thousand random puzzle pieces wrapped up in a trench coat. Plenty of edge pieces, too.</p><p>Instead of wasting her time on wondering, Inej decided to follow orders and hold out for the unlikely chance that Kaz would explain later.</p><p>However, she soon regretted ever cursing the boredom. Boredom – lurking in empty alleyways and squinting at shadows – was far less exhausting than racing along the rooftops beside this boy, hurrying to clear his path of ambushes and pigeon traps.</p><p>A chop to the throat – down went a leering member of the Dime Lions. A swinging fist – lights out for a cantankerous drunk.</p><p>The boy never noticed. He kept blazing forward, head bowed to the ground and soaked shoes splashing through the loudest of puddles. </p><p>Once, near her wit’s end, Inej even lobbed a bottle down an adjacent street. It shattered; the boy jumped. At least he had enough common sense to find a different shortcut.</p><p>
  <em>What’s a pigeon like him doing in a place like this? He’s going to get himself killed… or worse.  </em>
</p><p>Not tonight, of course. Saints be willing, Inej would see to it that he got wherever he was headed.</p><p>After an hour of shadowing, she had grown strangely attached to this nameless boy. Protective, almost. Sort of like whenever she would climb to the crows’ nests and watch the fledglings totter.</p><p>Then he started whistling.</p><p>Inej cringed. He was bad enough with his weak coughs and clunking footsteps. Something as innocent as whistling was sure to bring the wrong kind of attention.</p><p>Still, it was a lovely tune. Low and clear with the slightest hint of sorrow that sliced through the darkness as sharp as any blade. A sound that clean didn’t belong somewhere as filthy as the Barrel. Even with the downpour washing the worst of the physical muck, the stains and dirt lingered <em>beneath</em> the surface.</p><p>She was almost disappointed when the boy finally ended his journey. His whistle softened into a weary sigh as he pushed through the front door of a decrepit house.</p><p><em>He’s tired?</em> Inej smiled despite the exhaustion dripping from her sore muscles.</p><p>At least he was finally where he belonged. Safe from the underside of Ketterdam at night.</p><p>Inej hoped whatever Kaz had planned wouldn’t involve dragging the boy back through the dangerous, shady streets. It was a hollow hope, though.</p><p>Pure things never lasted long in the Barrel.</p><p>She spared another glance at the building, memorizing the peeling doorway and the faint brush of curtains against a far-left window. Then, satisfied, she turned and headed back for her home.</p><p>After a well-deserved nap, she reported her observations to Kaz.</p><p>Three days later, she overheard Jesper complaining about the stench of fresh leather. Not long after, Inej caught the faintest whiff of a tannery and the softest of whistles when she passed by the workroom.</p><hr/><p>Nina wasn’t in the best of moods.</p><p>She had endured three horribly exhausting clients, stepped in some questionable <em>goop</em>, and had to delay her well-earned dinner because she had been “summoned” by Kaz Brekker.</p><p>(The thought of being “summoned” made her want to throw back her head and laugh, but she still ended up going, because it was easier than dealing with whatever spiteful fit he’d pitch if she refused to come.)</p><p>So, yes, Nina felt the stomping was justified. She wanted Kaz to know she was coming—and she wanted to track whatever she trudged through up and down his damn staircase.</p><p>Someone else was already in the hallway when Nina stomped up the last step.</p><p><em>Oh </em>no. <em>If Kaz makes me wait to meet with him after going through all that trouble to get me here— </em></p><p>It was a boy with a tangle of golden curls and milk-smooth skin. He looked almost angelic amidst the grime coated walls of the Slat.</p><p>Nina snorted. <em>He’s definitely in the wrong place. The church is a couple blocks down the road. </em></p><p>Despite her stomping, he hadn’t heard her approach. He remained where he was, scowling at his reflection in the glass frame of one of Kaz’s stolen paintings. He tried a range of different expressions, some with barred teeth and others with a wrinkled nose. Most of his faces featured a narrowed-eyed glare.</p><p>He probably thought he looked dangerous, but his expressions reminded Nina of uncooked dough. All puffy and soft and devoid of any sort of heat.</p><p>She frowned, finding herself more perplexed than annoyed at the unexpected roadblock.</p><p>
  <em>Who is he? What’s he doing here on the third floor?</em>
</p><p>After a moment of brain-wracking, she recognized him as the latest recruit she’d seen lurking around the Slat. Wylan something. A new demo boy. From the few conversations she’d shared with Inej and Jesper, he had been a part of the Dregs for a month.</p><p>(Nina had asked both for their opinions. Out of scientific curiosity. Inej had been unsurprisingly tight-lipped, holding back whatever juicy secrets she and Kaz shared. Jesper, on the other hand, had already started taking bets on when the kid would end up floating in the canal.)</p><p>(Her money had been on before the next big ship docked in Fifth Harbor. Rotty never missed a chance to remind her of the twenty kruge she owed.)</p><p>She didn’t know if she ought to be impressed or surprised that he was still alive. The fact that he managed to retain some of that naive innocence made her suspicious.</p><p>Wylan smoothed his unruly hair to the side and hunched his shoulders. It was a comically familiar sight, like watching featherless birds flap their pudgy wings in a poor imitation of their parents. Nina finally realized what he was doing.</p><p>
  <em>Saints, he’s—he’s trying to imitate Kaz!</em>
</p><p>He had all the ferocity and bite of a teething puppy.</p><p>A laugh bubbled from her throat at the sheer ridiculousness of it – of floppy curls and floppy ears. Wylan jumped, finally noticing her presence. His ears burned a rosy pink, but he kept his chin held level. </p><p>“It’s rude to sneak up on people, you know.”</p><p>“I’ve been here for five minutes. I’d hardly call that sneaking.”</p><p>Perhaps an exaggeration. Nina couldn’t be sure how much time she had wasted watching the boy ogle his own reflection. Still, she had been wasting Kaz’s time too—he was probably scowling at his door, too stubborn to open it himself—so it hadn’t been an altogether pointless endeavor.</p><p>“Er…”</p><p>Nina thought it best not to dwell on Wylan’s attempts to mimic Kaz. She felt the fast thrum of his heart, the blood rushing through his veins. Sure, she wasn’t above some friendly teasing, but she might send him into cardiac arrest if she made him any more anxious.</p><p>“I’ve never tried summoning the guy <em>that</em> way before. What incantation did you use?”</p><p>Then again, a little teasing couldn’t hurt. She couldn’t help it.</p><p>She nodded towards the glass frame. It looked empty without Wylan’s ridiculously distorted expressions. “’Cause I heard you have to say ‘arrogant bastard’ three times for it to work,” she continued.</p><p>Wylan winced, sparing a side glance at the painting before stepping away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>Nina’s lingering smile dried up fast. Might as well impart some wisdom on the kid before sending him packing.</p><p>“You might want to find somewhere else to play. Brekker doesn’t take kindly to unwelcomed guests.”</p><p>“I’m not here to <em>play.” </em>He bristled at her comment.  “Kaz wanted to talk about—” Wylan mashed his lips tight. “Nevermind.” He dipped his head and headed towards the top of the stairs.</p><p>Nina narrowed her eyes. <em>Kaz wanted to meet with him? He’s been here for a month. Kaz isn’t the kind to roll out the welcome mat for new Dregs. </em></p><p>Hell, Kaz hadn’t given Nina so much as a side nod when Per Haskell bought out her contract. New toys usually didn’t get private audiences with the puppet master.  </p><p>
  <em>Whatever Kaz has planned, it’s not going to be good for this kid. Kaz will eat him alive. </em>
</p><p>Nina made it a personal rule to never get attached to things with puppy-dog eyes. It never worked out well for all parties involved. Still, she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.</p><p>(It was probably the blue eyes. Nina always was a sucker for blue eyes.)</p><p>“Hey, Wylan,” Nina said, catching his upper arm as he brushed past her. He flinched and she felt a sudden spike in his pulse—<em>fear</em>?</p><p>She immediately loosened her grip. He watched her, wary. His heartbeat still hadn’t settled.</p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>He blinked, wariness shifting to confusion. “I was talking to Kaz? I just told you th—”</p><p>“No, I mean <em>here.”</em> She gestured around at the dark walls, the stains on the steps, and the overall feeling of <em>depression</em> that surrounded them. “You don’t belong here. Go back to where you came from before it’s too late.”</p><p>He digested her words with another blink. A burst of emotion flared across his face before he smothered it.</p><p>
  <em>Wait—what was that—</em>
</p><p>Nina felt another surge of adrenaline, this time a fury spike that left her momentarily breathless.</p><p>“There’s no going back,” Wylan muttered. He hurried down the stairs, disappearing with a flurry of creaking steps.</p><p>Nina sighed and shook her head. No point worrying about it now. She knocked on Kaz’s door and entered upon hearing his terse command. He was scowling, a moment’s breath from remarking on her tardiness no doubt. She didn’t feel the same swell of satisfaction of keeping him inconvenienced.</p><p>“What do you want, Brekker?” she instead asked with a gusty sigh.</p><p>She wouldn’t ask about what Kaz has planned for Wylan.</p><p>First, he wouldn’t tell her anyway. Kaz was a big fan of “need to know” basis, which meant no one except for him ever got to see the whole picture until it was neatly stolen, framed, and hanging in his collection.</p><p>Second, she didn’t need him knowing she was worried for the kid. No weaknesses in the Barrel and all.</p><p>And third? Wylan had startled her more than she’d like to admit.</p><p> (<em>“There’s no going back.”)</em></p><p>(It was the kind of sneer only a bastard could pull off.)</p><hr/><p>More than once, Jesper had advised people against sneaking up on a master marksman with deadly aim. Inej got a pass because Jesper was halfway convinced she couldn’t <em>not</em> be invisible. Kaz got a pass because, well, because he was Kaz Brekker. Enough said.</p><p>Everyone else though?</p><p>Everyone else had the same chance of being turned into a pin cushion if they tried sneaking up on him. Sound advice from someone who wasn’t afraid of launching warning shots.</p><p>Unfortunately, Jesper Fahey rarely took his own advice. He loved bursting into rooms. <em>Especially</em> if there was a chance to startle someone on the other side. <em>Especially</em> if they happened to be a cute, prone-to-stuttering demolitions expert.</p><p>However, Jesper refrained from kicking open the door to their makeshift laboratory. As much as he loved the idea of slamming the door against the adjacent wall to make a crash louder than a gunshot, the soft lump jammed in his coat pocket made him hesitate.</p><p>Kaz’s words still rumbled through his mind.</p><p>(“Take these to Wylan. He should be working on his latest assignment. If he’s not earning his keep, then do whatever you want with them. Toss them on the tables if you so desire.”)</p><p>
  <em>Nothing like a touch of steel to temper his generosity.</em>
</p><p><em>(</em>Generosity? The thought had almost made Jesper laugh. But he sure as hell wouldn’t laugh in front of Kaz. He saved his chuckles for the stairwell.)</p><p>Fortunately, Wylan’s floppy curls were flopped over something on the table. Jesper would have felt guilty tossing Kaz’s package in the river.</p><p>Jesper crossed his arms, leaning against the door threshold.</p><p>Wylan continued fussing over whatever device he had on the table, muttering something inaudible. He ran a pale hand through the golden mop of hair on his head. When he exhaled, his breath came out as fog. No awareness whatsoever that he was being observed.</p><p>It was strangely exciting, this momentary invisibility.</p><p>
  <em>This must be how Inej feels. </em>
</p><p>After Wylan snared his bottom lip between his teeth in frustrated – <em>adorable</em> – concentration, Jesper decided that maybe he would sneak around a lot more. </p><p>Wylan exhaled again into his palms and rubbed his hands together. Jesper tilted his head, eyes narrowing. He’d been too busy watching Wylan’s face that he somehow missed the rest of him. Like how Wylan’s fingers trembled or how the patches of skin beneath his grimy nails were nearly purple with cold.</p><p>
  <em>I’m surprised he’s still able to work. It’s freezing in here.</em>
</p><p>He patted the soft lump in his pocket again before striding into the room.</p><p>“Morning!”</p><p>Wylan jumped, those cornflower blue eyes widening. Shadows, the same dusky purple as his frozen fingertips, lingered under his eyes.</p><p>“It’s morning already?”</p><p>
  <em>He’s been working through the night?</em>
</p><p>At least he could report back to Kaz in good confidence that Wylan was earning his keep. </p><p>(Oh, hell, who was he kidding? He had a feeling he would have lied to Kaz godsdamn <em>Brekker</em> for this stupid boy.)</p><p>“I have something for you.”</p><p>“Something for me?” Wylan perked up. The blurry confusion drained from his expression, only to be replaced by the slightest tinge of pink. The colors blended across his face like a pastel sunset.</p><p><em>“Relax.</em> It’s not from me. It’s from Kaz. Here, hold out your hand.” Jesper jerked his chin towards Wylan’s arm.</p><p>“Kaz has something for me? He said the fuses wouldn’t be in unti—” He stretched his open palm towards Jesper. Jesper clamped his hands on either side of Wylan’s fingers, cupping them tight in a strange blend of handshake and hand hold.</p><p>“Saints, Wylan! Your hands are colder than a <em>Druskelle’s </em>tit!”</p><p>“I—uh—” Wylan tried to stutter out an excuse. He didn’t get very far. He also didn’t pull his hands from Jesper’s grip.</p><p><em>His hands are probably so cold ‘cause all the blood’s gone to his face, </em>Jesper mused, fighting back a smile. Wylan’s hands might have been frozen blue, but his cheeks glowed a rosy red.</p><p>
  <em>Cute.</em>
</p><p>“Jesper—”</p><p>Jesper relinquished his grip on Wylan’s hands and dug in his coat. He pressed a pair of gloves into Wylan’s palm, still warm—and slightly sticky—from being in his pocket.</p><p>“These are gloves…?” Wylan murmured. His fingers curled reflexively around the soft fabric.</p><p>“Brilliant observation, kid.” Jesper tried to keep the laugh from his voice. “Can’t get anything past you, huh?”</p><p>“Gloves from <em>Kaz.”</em></p><p>Jesper’s smile slid of his face as he considered the implications.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, shit.</em>
</p><p>He hadn’t thought much of it when Kaz had called him for an errand. And he hadn’t thought much of it when Kaz told him to bring the gloves to Wylan. Maybe because winter had come fast and gloves didn’t seem too out of place.</p><p>Or maybe because Kaz had nodded towards the gloves, his own leather-bound hands buried deep in his pockets.</p><p>
  <em>Out of sight, out of mind. </em>
</p><p>Personally, Jesper didn’t give two shits about gloves. Hell, gloves tended to muffle the faint click of the trigger or the shuddering recoil against his palm. He’d settle for some cold fingers if it meant he could feel his skin sing with each shot.</p><p>But gloves meant a lot more to Dirtyhands. They meant something—only Jesper couldn’t figure out what that something was.</p><p>Wylan still hadn’t pulled the gloves on yet. Jesper eyed them like a tricky hand, considering his next move.</p><p>They were nothing like Kaz’s dark leather pair. These were a pale tan, the same shade as the contents of Anika’s morning mug: a splash of coffee with her cup of cream. The insides were lined with a pure white fluff, not yet stained with the filth of the Barrel.</p><p>
  <em>Kaz probably fenced them off some poor pigeon. They’re fit for a prince. A pigeon prince. </em>
</p><p>“Well, you know, they aren’t a gift,” Jesper said after another pause.</p><p> “They aren’t a gift?” Wylan echoed. His bemused expression shifted into one of concern.</p><p>“Nah, of course not. That’s not his style.”</p><p><em>The moment Kaz starts handing out gifts is the day I give up waffles.</em> And he had a waffle date with Nina scheduled for next week. </p><p>“They’re to protect his investment,” Jesper continued.</p><p>“His investment?”</p><p>Wylan was getting pretty good at this whole parroting thing. If Jesper got him to flush bright red again, Wylan could double as a mercher’s fancy pet.</p><p>“I’ll explain, but first you gotta put ‘em on. I can’t hear myself think over your teeth chattering.”</p><p>Wylan hesitated before pulling the soft gloves on. A faint smile flickered across his lips before he mashed them tight.</p><p>
  <em>Ghezen, that was adorable. </em>
</p><p>Jesper scratched the back of his head, running through his next words.</p><p>“All right, so there are only three fingers that I need. Trigger finger, obviously. Thumb, makes sense. And this one—very important for diplomacy.” He wriggled his middle finger with a wink. “Apart from detracting from my otherwise godlike beauty, I could get by with less. <em>You</em>, on the other hand, need all your digits.”</p><p>Wylan nodded slowly, uncertainly.</p><p>Jesper continued. “Around here, it’s a sign of status for demolition folk to have all their bits attached. It shows how good you are. Plus, it makes it easier to avoid those who’ll give you a bad blow. In more ways than one.”</p><p>Another wink. The kid’s ears burned crimson.</p><p>“That’s why Raske is our best. He’s got the most fingers attached.”</p><p>Wylan did a quick mental calculation. “Raske has eight fingers.”</p><p>“Our previous demo girl only had six.”</p><p>“Oh…”</p><p>Wylan gulped and dropped his gaze back to his gloved fingers. They twitch, but Jesper reckoned it’s more from nerves than the cold. Part of him itched to grab Wylan’s hands again and count each slender finger individually. Just to make sure they were all there, of course.</p><p>However, the desire faded when he realized he’d be touching suede instead of Wylan’s skin.</p><p>“It gets real cold ‘round here. Kaz probably doesn’t want you getting frostbite or getting clumsy. Those gloves are to protect those ten little assets.”</p><p>Jesper compromised by bumping the back of his knuckles against Wylan’s hand.</p><p>Wylan fell silent for a moment before nodding. “That makes sense. I should thank him.”</p><p>Jesper scoffed and shook his head. “Maybe hold off on the gratitude till you have some experience. Kaz always ends up on top, but the same can’t be said for his investments.”</p><p>“Oh,” Wylan said again.</p><p>Another beat of silence lapsed before Jesper cleared his throat. “Well, I better get going. The tables aren’t going to watch themselves.”</p><p>Wylan nodded. “Right, uh, and I have to finish this by tonight.” He hesitated before smiling. “At least I can thank you for bringing them to me.”</p><p>“Just following orders. See you around, kid.” Jesper offered a wave, pivoted on his heel, and strode out the door. Once out of eyeshot, he buried his hands deep in his coat pocket. Anything to get his twitching fingertips to sit still again.</p><p>He slowed his steps. With those fancy gloves, Wylan looked like a fresh-faced pigeon, ripe for plucking. The fear of retaliation from the gloves’ giver would keep most of the Dregs off Wylan’s back, but he’d be in danger the moment he stepped outside their turf.</p><p>
  <em>I hope Kaz knows what he’s doing, marking Wylan like that. Now everyone will know he belongs to Dirtyhands. </em>
</p><p><em>What does Kaz even </em>want<em> with a kid like Wylan?</em></p><p>Jesper shook his head with a click of the tongue. There was a plan percolating in Kaz’s head like a fresh pot of brew. Still, that didn’t keep him from dwelling on the inevitable storm.</p><p>
  <em>Wylan will need someone watching over him. Guess I’ve been volunteered. </em>
</p><p>A smile flickered across his lips. Might not be the <em>worst</em> way to spend his time.</p><hr/><p>The small sack hit the table with a metallic <em>clang. </em>All three of them – Muzzen, Rotty, and Anika – looked up simultaneously. The sound of coins shifting, rubbing together, <em>singing</em> – it was like a dog whistle for them.</p><p>“Oh? Here to pay out for losing the bet?” Anika teased. Jesper didn’t look particularly bust up about losing <em>again. </em>She reckoned he was pretty used to the feeling.</p><p>“Nope,” Jesper countered with an even wider grin. “I’m here to change my bet <em>and</em> raise the stakes.”</p><p>Anika wasn’t altogether surprised; their marksman thrived on raising the stakes. Changing the bet was unexpected though. Jesper wasn’t usually the fickle sort. More of a “come what may” kind of guy.  </p><p>“Change it?” Rotty tapped his chin, considering. “You want an even earlier date? You’ll have to talk to Looper about switching then. He’s the next soonest.”</p><p>Jesper shook his head. “Not earlier. Later. Wylan ain’t going anywhere.”</p><p>Muzzen frowned. “What makes you say that?”</p><p>“I got a hunch, that’s all.” He tapped the side of his nose and winked. “I’m feeling lucky about this, so go ahead and put me for the latest date you got.” He gestured towards the book before pivoting and strolling back towards the main floor.</p><p>Rotty and Anika swapped glances.</p><p>“Does he know something we don’t know?” she whispered.</p><p>“Nah, are you cracked? It’s <em>Jesper, </em>for gods’ sakes,” Rotty whispered back. “That kid is as good as fish food. Jesper’s the kind to bet double or nothing on a <em>coin flip</em> for the thrill of it.”</p><p>“I don’t know… I still think he knows something we don’t.” She craned her neck to catch one last glimpse of Jesper before he disappeared. “He’s got that stupid swagger in his step again.”</p><p>“‘Cause he’s piss drunk. It’s nothing to do with the bet or that kid. Now, how much did Roeder put down? I’m pretty sure he’s out.”</p><p>Anika scowled down at their makeshift ledger. “Aw, shit. It’s been two months, right? Then I’m out too—”</p><p>“Nearly three now—”</p><p>“I’m still in. Uh, that’s a seven – not a one – by the way.”</p><p>“That’s <em>obviously </em>a one, you lying moron!"</p><p>They were too busy bickering about their scribbled bets to hear the sharp <em>clicking</em> of the cane. At least, not until it was too late.</p><p>“The pigeons don’t roost here to watch you gossip, do they?”</p><p>Anika reacted first, stiffening up and forcing her smile away.</p><p>“Of course not. We were—”</p><p>“You want in on the bet?” Muzzen interrupted. “There’s fifty kruge for four months.”</p><p><em>Saints, Muzzen…</em> <em>You think the Bastard of the Barrel wants a part of such a stupid wager?</em> Anika wanted to pummel him for being so thick. Muzzen was good for a lot of things, but self-preservation sure wasn’t one of them.</p><p>“The bet?” Kaz lifted an eyebrow, head tilted to the side.</p><p>
  <em>As if he doesn’t already know what we’re talking about.</em>
</p><p>“About the new demo kid. We were, uh, trying to figure how long he’d last.”</p><p>“He’s more pigeon than crow,” Muzzen added with a shrug. “Seriously—look at those gloves he’s got.”</p><p>“Something wrong with gloves?” Kaz’s own leather-bound fingers tapped along the gleaming crest of feathers on his bird cane. Anika decided they ought to wrap up the conversation pretty quick after that.</p><p>“We weren’t really that invested until Jesper all of a sudden changed up his bet.” She glanced towards Rotty, who nodded in agreement. “He’s pretty convinced the new demo kid will be around for a while. Maybe that he’d even beat out Raske for the main demo spot.”</p><p>Anika swore she caught a flicker of a smile on Kaz’s face before it disappeared. <em>Or maybe I’m just seeing things again. </em></p><p>Concussions were nasty brutes.</p><p>“Thank Ghezen, it seems he <em>does </em>have a brain,” Kaz said instead, his tone dryly amused. He glanced at the scrawls and scribbles in their open ledger.</p><p>“Looks like the only slots left are far in the future. If you plan on making back the money you lost, you better hope our new demo expert doesn’t need replacing anytime soon.”</p><p>Kaz cleared his throat, reminded them that he wasn’t running a charity for loiterers, and set off on his way.</p><p>“Maybe Jesper <em>does</em> know something we don’t know.” Rotty broke the silence first.</p><p>She shook her head and waited for the clicking of Kaz’s cane to fade from earshot. Then she penciled in her name next to eight months. Reconsidered. Ten months.</p><p>“Never mind what Jesper knows—<em>he’s </em>the one holding all the cards.”</p><p>As if they didn’t already know.</p><hr/><p>“Run one more sweep of the area before turning in tonight. We don’t want <em>another</em> impromptu roadblock to make things unnecessarily difficult.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>“Also, would you remind Jesper that his sharp aim doesn’t mean <em>shit</em> when he isn’t where he’s supposed to be?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Kaz wouldn’t have minded delivering the message himself, but he had other important things to do. He’d leave the veiled threats – or, rather, exasperated reminders whenever they came from Inej – for another day.  </p><p>“That should be it for now. I’ll let you know if there’s anything else I need.”</p><p>Inej stiffened, hand hovering for a millisecond over the window latch. Kaz doubted even she was aware of her hesitation, as brief as it was.</p><p>“Something else on your mind?”</p><p>Inej shook her head and ducked through the window. He waited for her to leave, but she remained on the ledge for a moment too long.</p><p>“Raske should be the one in charge of demos tomorrow. He has more experience.”</p><p>
  <em>Ahh. There it is. </em>
</p><p>The final piece of the puzzle, falling into place.</p><p>Kaz quirked a brow in response. “And where do you think experience comes from?”</p><p>He half-hoped she’d turn around and mount an argument, but she pushed off, her back melding with the shadows. The drunken group hollering outside his window drowned out everything else, though he doubted he would hear her descent anyway.</p><p>He counted to ten before allowing a slow smile to curl.</p><p><em>Put Raske in charge of demos? You’d only say that if you were worried about </em>him<em>. </em></p><p>Nina’s overheard advice. Jesper’s clumsy protection. Inej’s unspoken concern. The rest of them ogling like fools over a simple pair of suede gloves.</p><p>Strange for a murder of crows to get so attached to their residential pigeon. Still, if it kept the others watching over Wylan, then Kaz had one less variable to worry about.</p><p>
  <em>I wonder who’s actually being held hostage around here. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!! I originally meant to have more outright scheming Kaz, but this probably wouldn't have ever been finished if I held out any longer. </p><p>If y'all liked this, let me know! I could see myself diving back into the books and writing a part two :)</p><p>//and oof, i forgot i wrote this back during my "snobby past tense" phase. but i was *not* about to rewrite 5k words back to present tense</p></blockquote></div></div>
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